"A wonderful realm to reap for the Great Father," Threxus, the Lord of Contagion leading the Sable Contagion warband as part of the 1st Company, said. "It is a shame that the one who built this still serves the Corpse Emperor."
Around him stood twelve Blightlord Terminators, his personal retinue.
With them were twenty-one squads of Plague Marines, marching in slow, steady advance.
While Threxus was not among the most famous of the Death Guard, and not one who had lived since the Heresy, he had earned his place.
He was granted the title of Lord of Contagion for his deeds.
Seventy-seven worlds.
Seven hundred seventy-seven hours.
All brought to ruin under his hand.
The ground beneath them was already dying.
Rot spread through the soil.
Air turned thick and foul.
Behind the group were the armored elements of the warband.
Five Land Raiders.
fourteen Predators.
Twenty-one Rhinos, each carrying a squad of Plague Marines.
In front of the warband moved the Poxwalkers.
A massive horde.
Their numbers were near uncountable.
Shambling.
Moaning.
Endless.
Alongside them marched the Tithe Uaimh Forester Guard.
Two full regiments of poorly equipped traitor soldiers.
Better than the Poxwalkers in one way—
They could shoot.
"My lord," the Blightlord Terminator standing closest to Threxus—likely his second-in-command—said. "Our fleet has been defeated by the Corpse Emperor's followers."
"I see," Threxus said as he stopped moving and raised his head, looking into the sky. "Then we might have the chance to meet the creator of this realm—the one who has drawn the attention of the Great Father."
As he finished speaking—
Multiple rockets suddenly streaked down from the sky.
They slammed into the poxwalker horde and exploded.
Fire and shockwaves tore through the mass.
Hundreds of the shambling dead were destroyed in an instant.
Bodies were thrown apart.
Limbs scattered across the corrupted ground.
Yet the horde did not stop.
Those behind simply walked forward, stepping over the remains.
Above, Thunderhawks screamed across the sky.
More rockets followed.
Heavy bolter fire rained down, cutting lanes through the horde.
A Land Raider at the rear took a direct hit from a missile.
Its armor held—but it staggered under the impact.
"Return fire," the Blightlord ordered.
Predators turned their turrets upward.
Autocannons and lascannons fired into the sky, filling the air with streaking fire.
"Looks like they have indeed come," Threxus said as he watched the Thunderhawks wreak havoc.
Other than the Blightlord Terminators still standing around him, the Plague Marine squads had already spread out, firing their bolters into the sky.
Those within the Rhinos had disembarked and joined the firing line, working together with the marines manning the pintle-mounted storm bolters.
The air became a storm of fire.
Tracers.
Missiles.
Explosions.
Suddently, one of the Rhino is hit with a lascannon from the rear, instantly destrying it, killing some of the Plague marines that stand too close with it.
From their rear, a large armored group begin to close in on them rapidly.
"One Rhino destroyed," a mechanical voice come from the commander for one of the Terminus Ultra come through the Dark Knights vox-channel.
"Commence battleplan Zeta-Nine," the Lord Sergeant leading the armored group declare from inside his Land Raider Redeemer. "Destroyed all the traitor armored element."
On his word, clicks of confirmation from all the vehicles echoe through the vox and the armored group begin to change their formation.
The Predator Destrutors begin to move around, focusing their fire on the warband own Predators and the Plague Marines, distracting them while the Predator Executioners arm with the Plasma Destroyer begin their shooting, destroying vehicles and killing Plague Marines with each shots.
The Terminus Ultras begin their duels with the Death Guard Land Raiders.
Even though the traitor Land Raiders are all just the MkII, the most numeroul Land Raider that found among the loyalist and traitor ranks, the Nugrle corruption on these machines resulted them become more resilience and hard to kill, even with the lascannons coming from the Terminus Ultra, a Land Raider variant that develop to kill heavy-armor, even Titan.
The Land Raider Redeemers, unlike the Predator Destructors that had to keep moving, and the Terminus Ultras that were locked in brutal duels, were unleashed upon the weaker mass.
Charging forward into the poxwalkers and the Tithe Uaimh Forester Guard, the Redeemers opened fire.
Their twin-linked assault cannons roared first, ripping through ranks of bodies, tearing apart both the dead and the living alike.
Then—
Flamestorm cannons ignited.
Walls of burning promethium washed over the horde.
Poxwalkers burned where they stood, their diseased flesh melting as they staggered forward only to collapse.
The traitor guardsmen fared no better.
Their thin armor offered no protection.
Entire squads vanished in seconds, reduced to ash and screaming silhouettes.
Seeing what was happening to his forces, Threxus quickly gave his orders.
Rhinos moved at once.
Engines roared as they formed a defensive circle—three layers deep—surrounding Threxus and the Blightlord Terminators at the center.
The Plague Marines fell back into the formation, firing as they moved.
They used the Rhinos as cover, but kept their distance—far enough that if one exploded, it would not take them with it.
The traitor Predators, though heavily outnumbered, proved far more resilient than expected. Their Nurgle-corrupted hulls absorbed punishment that would have destroyed normal vehicles.
Instead of holding position, they began to move.
They charged.
Threxus had given a clear order—
Ignore everything else.
Destroy the Predator Executioners.
The corrupted tanks surged forward, guns blazing as they closed the distance.
The Predator Executioners reacted at once, pulling back while firing rapid plasma blasts to slow the advance.
Superheated shots struck traitor armor, burning through plating and melting tracks, but still they came.
Seeing this, most of the Predator Destructors broke off and gave chase, moving to intercept the traitor Predators before they could reach the Executioners.
A few remained behind, holding position and pouring fire into the Rhino formation and the Plague Marines taking cover behind them.
The traitor Land Raiders also began their charge.
But not toward the Destructors—
They aimed straight for the Land Raider Redeemers.
Though still powerful, the Redeemers were not built for heavy armor duels. Their weapons were meant to burn infantry from fortified positions, not to fight tanks of their own class.
Threxus had given them the same order as the Predators.
Destroy the Redeemers.
Stop the slaughter of the horde.
One Land Raider peeled off, turning to engage and delay the Terminus Ultras.
The rest surged forward.
Lascannons fired.
Bright beams cut through the smoke and struck the Redeemers.
One Redeemer took a direct hit to the side.
Its armor held—but scorched and cracked.
Another was struck on the front glacis, the impact forcing it to slow as warning runes flashed inside.
Seeing this, the Redeemers began to peel away, moving back toward the Terminus Ultras—drawing the traitor Land Raiders into their range so the heavier tanks could deal with them.
As the armored battle continued, five Thunderhawks descended and landed around the Rhino circle.
Ramps dropped.
From them, fifty Terminators advanced.
Storm bolters opened fire first, cutting down Plague Marines manning the pintle-mounted storm bolters on the Rhinos.
Then assault cannons roared.
A storm of shells tore into the Plague Marines, forcing them into cover. Even with their unnatural resilience, few could stand against such firepower.
On the left flank, Terminators armed with storm shields and thunder hammers charged straight into the circle.
They did not slow.
They did not hesitate.
Thunder hammers rose and fell, crushing Plague Marines with brutal force.
Some blows struck the Rhinos themselves—flipping them onto their sides, rendering them useless as cover.
"Kill them all!" a sergeant roared as he smashed a Plague Marine, sending the broken body crashing into a Rhino hull.
A short distance from the battle, Atharion stood upon a small rise with the Argent Wardens, watching.
The Terminator squads he had brought were from the 2nd and 5th Companies. The 1st had already been sent to reinforce other warzones.
"Looks like the 5th does live up their name."
"Well, Sevran did recruit from the feral worlds, and with the 5th role being our assault company, so its normal that they act more savage then the other."
Atharion turned his head.
An Astartes stood beside him.
He had not been there a moment ago.
Yet none of the Argent Wardens reacted.
The figure wore Mk VIII black power armor, covered by a white robe.
Runes and scriptures glowed across both armor and cloth—silver, not blue like most Librarians.
In his hand was a force sword.
At his side, a plasma pistol.
"Why can't you just follow us normally?" Atharion said to the Librarian. "You might get attacked if you keep doing that."
"If I followed you the normal way," the Librarian replied, "then why would I spend so much effort rising to Master and learning teleportation?"
The Librarian was Master Orion—one of the youngest and brightest of the Librarium. Many believed he would one day rise to Grand Master.
And he was a friend to Atharion.
A fact that not many know.
"So," Atharion said, eyes still on the battlefield. "What do you see?"
"Plague. Rot," Orion answered calmly. "And something deeper."
He paused.
His helm, hidden beneath the hood, fixed upon the center of the enemy formation.
"The one surrounded by the Blightlords… he is the source. Strong. Focused."
"A leader?"
"Yes."
Another pause.
"Be careful," Orion added quietly. "I sense restraint. He is holding something back."
Atharion narrowed his eyes.
Below, the Rhino circle was breaking apart.
Terminators pressed inward.
Even some of the Blightlord terminators that send to face them cant stop them, many of them are kill on the spot and those that survive have all suffer heavy injury.
Yet Threxus still stood there.
Unmoved.
Unbothered.
As if the deaths around him meant nothing.
Then—
A bright green light flared beside him.
The Blightlord that Atharion had taken as his second-in-command raised his bubotic axe and began to murmur dark words.
"Stop him," Atharion shouted. "We can't let him finish!"
He raised his plasma gun and fired.
Two Argent Wardens stepped forward, their plasma cannons roaring as they targeted the sorcerer.
But every shot detonated mid-air.
None reached him.
The air itself rejected the attack.
As the glow faded, a thick green miasma spread outward from Threxus and his guard.
It clung to the ground.
It seeped into the air.
It spread.
"Fleshy Abundance," Orion murmured, the silver runes on his armor glowing brighter. "He plans to strengthen them… restore them… make them harder to kill."
Below, the effect was already visible.
Wounded Plague Marines rose again.
Damaged armor sealed itself with writhing flesh.
Blightlords that had fallen began to move once more.
"This is your mission, Orion," Atharion said as he put away his plasma gun and gripped his hammer. "Kill the sorcerer. Prove that you are worthy as a Master of the Ordo Hexmortis."
"Of course, my lord," Orion replied, drawing his force sword. "But if you would be so kind—lead away the Lord of Contagion and his Blightlords. Let me focus on my target."
"Done," Atharion said.
Silver lightning began to arc across his armor.
The Argent Wardens beside him were wreathed in the same energy.
"Try to keep up."
The lightning intensified—
Then with a thunderclap, they vanished.
They reappeared in the heart of the circle.
Atharion struck before he fully materialized.
His hammer, charged with psychic force, slammed into a Blightlord Terminator.
The impact shattered armor.
Crushed bone.
The traitor was thrown aside like a broken shell.
The Argent Wardens hit the ground with him.
Bolters roared.
Blades rose.
They carved into the already weakened formation, driving straight toward Threxus.
The Lord of Contagion turned.
At last—
He moved.
His manreaper came up in a slow, deliberate arc.
Atharion stepped forward to meet him.
His psychic-filled hammer crashed into the Nurgle-corrupted manreaper.
The impact rang out like thunder.
Warp energy and foul rot clashed in a burst of light and decay.
"So," Threxus spoke, his voice thick with rot and ruin, "you are the one who has drawn the Great Father's attention."
He pressed forward, forcing his weight down on Atharion, their helms nearly touching.
"Join us, Atharion," he whispered, foul green gas spilling from his helm. "Join the Great Father. Only he can bring true salvation—to you… and to the realm you built."
Atharion breathed it in.
Just a trace—
And he felt it.
A creeping weight in his mind.
Decay.
Whispers.
"No."
He growled as psychic power surged through him.
It flowed into his hammer.
Into his body.
Strength returned in force.
"You are weak," he said, pushing back against the manreaper. "You failed the Emperor. You traded your humanity for something so foul your soul is no longer your own."
"No!" Threxus roared, straining as he forced his weight forward. "The Great Father gave me strength! Power! I was nothing before—rotting in the underhive!"
The two weapons locked again.
Sparks.
Warp-light.
Filth.
"The so-called Emperor gave me nothing," Threxus snarled. "I was dying—hunger, sickness—left to rot!"
His voice dropped, but the fury remained.
"Only the Great Father saw me."
He pushed harder.
"Not only did he save me—he made me more. A warrior. A herald."
Atharion's eyes burned.
"And you call that salvation?"
With a sudden surge, he twisted his hammer and broke the clash.
He stepped in again—
Closer.
Faster.
"Then you truly have no redemption," Atharion declared.
His hammer came down in a brutal arc.
Threxus raised his manreaper to block—
The impact cracked the ground beneath them.
Though he held his ground, Threxus was forced back a step.
"The only thing I will grant you," Atharion said, voice cold, "is death."
At his words, a mechadendrite snapped out from his back.
A plasma blaster mounted at its end flared to life.
"And it will be swift."